


Lazy Gibraltar Days

by Cawaiiey



Series: Cade's McHanzo Week Works!! [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Fingering, Food mention, M/M, McHanzo Week, McHanzo Week 2016, brief mention of dick piercings, domestic life, this is mostly sugary fluff with like a dash of spicy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8918968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/pseuds/Cawaiiey
Summary: Lazy days are rare when you’re a member of an illegal task force that goes out on international missions with increasing frequency. But when they happen to pop up, when neither of them are out on assignment, McCree and Hanzo make the most of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i worked on this all day now its time for BED okay this is like mostly sugary fluff thank u for reading beforehand

Lazy days are rare when you’re a member of an illegal task force that goes out on international missions with increasing frequency. But when they happen to pop up, when neither of them are out on assignment, McCree and Hanzo make the most of them.

Hanzo wakes up first, as usual, though he doesn’t launch out of bed like he used to do, ready to make the most of his waking hours. Instead, he turns in the semicircle of McCree’s arm, his prosthetic off for the night, and tucks himself as close as he can get to his sleeping bear of a husband. He rumbles, the sound reverberating through Hanzo, whose face is pressed up against his lover’s hairy chest. Jesse’s arm tightens its hold on Hanzo, while he snuffs and stretches, slowly waking up from a well-deserved rest. All the while, Hanzo is content to trace mindless patterns into his tawny skin, fingers lingering along the marks that he’d left on his clavicle just the night before. They’re fresh, evident in the vibrant shade of plum they are, and Hanzo feels a sort of primal satisfaction at the sight of them. Like he’s claiming what’s his. 

Speaking of what’s his, McCree finally pries his eyes open and runs his fingers down the curve of Hanzo’s spine, humming low in his throat to clear the sound of sleep from it before he speaks. It doesn’t work, “g’morning Han,” because his voice is still thick with sleep, rumbly and raspy. Hanzo loves the way it washes over him. He tilts his head up to snag a quick, closed-mouth kiss, considering McCree’s likely pungent morning breath, and snuggles closer. He winds his arm around his lover’s soft waist, delighting in his warmth. His husband always was a walking furnace. 

“Good morning, Jesse. Did you sleep well?” He asks, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his pectoral, the wiry hairs on his chest tickling his lips. McCree hums in response, shifting to place a noisy kiss on the top of his head. He suddenly stops, halting every movement, from the swell of his breathing to the lazy tracing of his fingers along his lower back. Hanzo feels the tenseness and it causes him to stiffen as well. Alarms ring in his head.

“Sugar…” Jesse says, very softly, into his hair. Hanzo’s instincts are screaming at him to get away, to get out of there, but he doesn’t. The danger hasn’t revealed itself yet. He can’t imagine what could possibly be an issue on their day off, but he’s prepar-

Jesse suddenly moves, pushing Hanzo onto his back, and lowers his head to press his lips against Hanzo’s chest-

“Jesse-”

-and blows a wet raspberry against the skin there. 

Hanzo seizes, laughter bubbling up in his throat, as McCree moves to attack his sides with his one hand. Those fingers of his tickle his abdomen and his ribs, pulling gasping breaths and laughter from the archer’s lips. The grin that Hanzo can see on his husband’s face is worth the way his stomach aches from laughter. His cowboy finally ceases his incessant torture and flops down on top of him, curling his arm around Hanzo’s back and settling his chin in his cleavage. 

“Sorry darlin’, jus’ couldn’t help myself,” Jesse says, gazing up at Hanzo with blatant adoration in his amber eyes. The archer snorts at him, amused. His fingers card through Jesse’s unruly tawny locks, which are even more tangled with sleep. He’s sure his hair is not much better, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve seen each other at far worse than bed head. McCree leans into his touch, rumbling happily low in his throat as Hanzo gently scratches at his scalp. 

“You are a fool,” Hanzo starts, and Jesse goes to open his mouth to protest, but he cuts him off before he can start, “but you are my fool. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

There are veritable hearts in Jesse’s eyes, as he makes a pleased noise and scoots further up, enough to rub his craggy nose against Hanzo’s, “oh, Hanzo, I love you too. I reckon that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Hanzo laughs, knowing Jesse always says that whenever he says romantic things, “no, I believe the nicest thing I’ve ever said to you was ‘I do’.”

“Reckon that could be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“How long is this list?”

“Baby, I’m pretty sure it goes on for miles.”

McCree steals a kiss, and Hanzo chuckles against his lips, returning the kiss with one of his own, muttering, “sap.” 

They lay there for long moments, breathing in tandem, just enjoying each other’s presence. It’s only when they hear a few people walking around outside do they realize they’ve been in bed for far too long. Jesse rubs his knuckles down Hanzo’s back, and turns his head to mutter in his ear, “what’d’ya wanna do today, sugar? We got the whole day to ourselves.”

Hanzo squirms a bit, McCree’s warm breath fanning over his neck and tickling him slightly. The sweat from the night prior sticks to his skin, and he can feel dried come on the inside of his thighs, enough filth to make the need for a shower known. “Well,” he starts, twisting his head so he can peek at McCree’s twinkling eyes, “I would like to shower. Perhaps you can go grab breakfast for us while I do so?” 

McCree nods, smiling at Hanzo like he was the sun, and steals another kiss before he rolls out of bed. Hanzo misses his warmth immediately, but he’ll survive. He rolls onto his side to watch McCree snap his prosthetic back into the hub at the end of his stump. The arm makes a whirring noise as it settles back into place, synthetic nerve endings and synapses coming online. After a few moments, it finally locks into place, and McCree squeezes his hand to make sure everything’s running smoothly. Hanzo is thankful his prosthetics only have to be disconnected for maintenance, and that the armor plating he attaches for battle is temporary. McCree, however, prefers his prosthetic, old and outdated as it is. To each their own. 

Jesse dresses, bending over to grab boxers and pajama bottoms (Hanzo preens slightly at the sight of scratches raking down the expanse of his muscled back;  _ the dragon marks its prey _ .) and he even shrugs on a loose t-shirt, probably thinking of the others that would tease him for the plethora of marks he had. Not that the shirt covered all of them- Hanzo was very thorough in claiming Jesse as his. Before McCree walked out the door, he glanced back, catching Hanzo’s eye. He blows a kiss at him and Hanzo makes a show of catching it, pressing his hand to his mouth and throwing one back in return. 

“Love you,” McCree shouts over his shoulder, catching Hanzo’s blown kiss, before he’s out the door and heading towards the mess hall. 

Hanzo lingers in bed, stretching languidly across the expanse of it like a please cat. The sheets around him grow cold without his husband’s body heat to keep them warm. Regretfully, he wrenches himself from bed, padding across the carpet (that took a lot of convincing Winston to have installed in agent’s private quarters) over to the en-suite bathroom. Hanzo appreciated that they had this to themselves; no one else occupied their room, which he attributed to the fact that they were married and that McCree had been a part of Overwatch previously. Regardless, it was nice to be able to slip under the hot stream of water without worry of others ogling him, something he was no stranger to from bathing in communal baths in his youth. 

The water sluices down his back in molten rivulets, a welcome burn, as it washes away the filth he and Jesse had accumulated the night before. That active sex life of theirs always left Hanzo filthy afterwards, and last night was no exception. He fondly remembers the feel of McCree deep inside of him, leaving a mess behind as he fell off the precipice. He’ll have to have McCree give him a repeat performance after his husband brought back their breakfast, he decides, feeling the stirrings of desire start in the pit of his stomach. 

Showering is a quick affair. Hanzo scrubs the filth off his body and uses McCree’s body wash, even going through the trouble to make sure the remnants from last night are gone from inside of him. As much as he loved being full of his lover, his come from the night before wouldn’t feel too pleasant to have left inside of him. After soaking for a few minutes under the spray, hair shampooed and conditioned already, Hanzo finally shuts off the water and steps out of the shower. He dries himself quickly, then wraps his hair up in the towel and scoops one of Jesse’s shirts up off the floor of the bathroom. It’s one of his favorites; the red and yellow plaid button-down made of the softest flannel, all worn in and smelling of cigarillos, cinnamon, and musk. A combination of scents that cling to Jesse and his clothing. 

Without another thought, he pulls the button down on, leaving it unbuttoned in the front, and walks back over to their bedroom. It seems his husband hadn’t returned yet, so he climbs on the bed and grabs his tablet, while tossing the towel piled on his head off to the side to leave his hair to airdry. There was a novel Satya sent him that he’d like to return to, so, he lays on his stomach and pulls up the application, settling against the messy covers with a smile. 

He’s completely engrossed in his tablet by the time McCree comes back. He announces his arrival with a, “honey! I’m home!”, and rounds the corner of the entryway with two plates, both heaping with bacon and pancakes (Hanzo’s talked to him about the sugar in the morning, but McCree is insistent on his American breakfast foods; not that Hanzo is really complaining, he has quite the sweet tooth). Hanzo locks his tablet and rolls onto his side, curling one arm around his waist provocatively. It seems to do the trick, because Jesse halts in his advance towards Hanzo, brows raising and a lascivious grin widening on his lips.

“Well, hello there, sugar. Ran out of clothes now, did’ya?” McCree quips, resuming his walk towards the bed.

Hanzo stops him by rolling off the bed and standing in front of him, both his hands occupied with holding the plates of their food. Firstly, they had a no eating on the bed rule, and, secondly, well… He reaches forward and walks his fingers up his husband’s chest, listening with a smile as his breath audibly hitches. Even after all these years, he’s still as hopelessly in love and attracted to him as he was on their very first date. Hanzo winds his fingers around his lover’s collar, pushing himself up onto his tiptoes so he can pull McCree down the rest of the way, though he doesn’t connect their lips just yet. 

“I did not run out of clothes,” he explains, practically purring, “I just prefer wearing yours. Also,” without his husband noticing, he’s moved his other hand to cup his lover’s growing bulge through his fleece pajama bottoms, “I know what it does to you to see me wearing your clothes.” 

“Baby,” McCree says, breathless, and Hanzo surges forward for a kiss, well-aware of how McCree cannot reciprocate with his hands as full as they are, “yer killin’ me,” he grumbles when Hanzo pulls away, not letting the kiss get too heated. 

“Oh, hush. I have teased you much more in the past.”

“Doesn’t make it anymore  _ fair _ , Han.” 

“You may take your fill later,” Hanzo promises, and Jesse visibly perks up at that, like a dog being told that he was getting a treat, “for now, I am sure you are just as hungry as I am.” 

McCree follows him to the coffee table, likely staring at the way the shirt is rucked up around his bare bottom, if he knows his husband, “y’got that right, sugar. Though, ‘m thinkin’ we might be hungry for different things.” He’s quick to put the plates down on the table and to grab a handful of Hanzo’s ass before the archer can sit down. He laughs at him and swats his hand away, sending a coy, but amused, smile over his shoulder at his lover.

“You are insatiable, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo chastises. He perches on the couch, fingers making quick work of buttoning the shirt he wore up for the time being. 

Jesse shoots him a grin, flopping onto the couch beside him, and immediately snaking an arm around his middle, “yer missin’ a last name there, pumpkin. Plus,” he pauses to lean in and nip at his earlobe, which just results in Hanzo pressing his hand against his face and gently shoving him away, “you love it.” 

The smile on his face betrays any animosity he tries to convey in the glare he shoots Jesse’s way. 

He reaches for his plate, feeling all too comfortable with his husband’s arm wrapped around his waist. McCree does the same, grabbing his dish full of flapjacks and bacon, as they settle back against the couch. Breakfast isn’t much of an affair for the both of them, as McCree stuffs his face full of his syrupy mess of bacon and pancakes, and Hanzo laughs at the sight of him, beard sticky with maple syrup. He manages to consume his food like less of a child, though he does devour it quickly, ravenous as he was. Hanzo even goes so far as to steal a slice of bacon from his husband’s plate, much to the man’s chagrin. 

“What’s mine is yours.”

“Honey, I’m puh-retty sure our vows don’t apply to food.”

With both plates clean, and their stomachs full, they settle more fully against the couch. Hanzo delights in the gentle thumb stroking his side, where his husband’s flesh hand is wrapped around him. He settles reaches across with his left hand to take lace his and McCree’s fingers together, sighing with content. With a glance at their joined fingers, he fondly thinks of the day they got their wedding bands tattooed onto their ring fingers. His tattoo was done in gold with a backdrop of red, the pattern on McCree’s serape wrapped neatly around his finger, and McCree’s was inked in gold, the shell pattern that adorned Hanzo’s hair ribbon around his finger, with blue arrows serving as a contrast to the gold. Being in battle so often made it damn near impossible to actually wear rings, so they went with the next best thing. Plus, these were more permanent, though…

“We need to get these filled in again,” Hanzo muses, tapping the tip of his finger against McCree’s tattooed ring, the scalloped pattern fading into his skin.

“Wanna do that before or after we renew our vows?”

Hanzo twists to smirk at his husband, one regal brow cocked, “oh? Renewing our vows? Why ever would I want to do that?” 

Jesse’s pout is becoming of his shaggy face, as he snuggles closer and brings that syrup-soaked beard closer to Hanzo’s face, “don’t tell me yer tired of me now, Han.” 

He scoffs and turns his body completely, letting go of his lover’s hand to grab his face and push him back, keeping himself away from the sugary strands of his goatee, “not now, I am not. But I may be if you get syrup on me. I just showered, Jesse. And, speaking of, you should go do so.” 

McCree, for his credit, backs off, though he sticks his tongue out at Hanzo. He returns the expression, gaining a soft chuckle for his efforts. His husband unwinds his arms from around his midsection, pausing to run his thumb along the curve of his cheekbone affectionately, and Hanzo leans into the touch. Jesse turns and heads over to their shower, throwing his shirt off and shucking his bottoms along the way, leaving him buck naked by the time he enters their bathroom and closes the door behind him. Hanzo watches the scene fondly the entire time.

When the shower finally starts running, he gets up, making his way over to the restroom door. Hanzo steps inside for barely a moment, listening to his lover’s boisterous singing, just to grab his toothbrush. He had plans for his husband once he gets out of the shower, that he’d like to get rid of his morning breath for. Jesse doesn’t even notice that he entered before he’s gone, mouth tasting of mint.

Hanzo unbuttons the shirt hanging loose around his waist and hips, letting it fall open to reveal the expanse of his chest, the plush muscle of his pectorals and his softening middle. Age and complacency have taken their toll on his previously muscled abdomen, though no one really minds it. Certainly not Jesse, who bites and sucks at the skin of his middle often. Speaking of, he’s eager for his husband to get out of the shower and ‘take his fill’, so to speak. 

The archer climbs back onto their bed, making sure to pull the flannel up a bit as he lays on his stomach. Their frequently used bottle of lubricant is where they left it on their nightstand, so he scoops it up and pours a bit of the viscous liquid onto his fingers. Age hasn’t affected how limber he is, as he easily reaches back and sinks two fingers into his already soft hole. The sound of the shower is still going strong, meaning he has ample time to finger himself before McCree comes out. 

The stretch feels  _ so good _ . Hanzo’s lips part into a breathless smile, head hanging between his raised shoulders as he starts to scissor the digits buried inside of him. They never feel as good as McCree’s fingers, which could always reach deeper than his could, but they’re suitable for now. It doesn’t take long for him to open up enough to slip a third digit in. He stretches himself open, thinking of Jesse walking out of their shared bathroom and seeing him like this, and sliding into him easily. 

That fantasy, coupled with the way he was stroking at his own walls, had his cock rapidly thickening, until it was practically begging to be touched. Hanzo is nothing if not a paragon of self-control, so he reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock.  He twists his hand on the upstroke, breathing stuttering as pleasure starts to flood his senses. He shifts to prop himself up on his knees, face pressed into the pillows, inhaling the scent of  _ Jesse _ , that mingles so sweetly with his own. The scent is so strong, it makes him dizzy, even after all these years.

The shower shuts off suddenly, the background noise ceasing. It takes a lot of discipline to pull his fingers out of himself and to stop stroking his cock, but he manages. Hanzo lays down once more, hiding his erection for the time being, and pushes himself back up onto his elbows. He manages to make it look like he was reading (which he’s certainly not, because he’s hard and aching and can’t focus on anything right now) when he hears the door to the bathroom open and the familiar sound of McCree whistling. Anticipation thrums through him like the buzz of static. 

“Baby, didja miss me,” Jesse sing-songs, and the mattress dips with his weight as he crawls up the bed, his damp, warm skin sliding along the backs of Hanzo’s legs, until he can hook his chin over his shoulder. Hanzo can feel something hard and insistent pressing against the swell of his ass. The contact ignites fire in his veins, sizzling in his bloodstream. He twists his head to look at his husband, the smile on his face indicating nothing but mischievousness, which Jesse arches a brow at, even as he shifts to slide his cock into the space between Hanzo’s cheeks. “I sure missed you, sugar.” 

“I can feel that,” Hanzo retorts, though he spreads his legs a bit wider and McCree slips deeper into the crest of his ass. Jesse’s eyes widen a bit, likely feeling the wetness there. He tilts his head to bite into the junction of his neck and shoulder, worrying the skin between his teeth even as he reaches for the lubricant. Hanzo throws his head back on a moan, because he didn’t even have to  _ ask _ . Jesse knows him so well; it was likely why they’d been married for almost five years now. 

“Y’got started without me,” McCree growls against his skin, and Hanzo spreads his legs as wide as they can go, anticipating his lover to shift back enough just to slick his cock up before he presses the head against his hole, “can’t say I’m,  _ fuck _ , complainin’ though,” he pushes forward and easily slips inside, satisfying Hanzo’s desire to be filled so  _ easily _ , “not when yer all slick and ready for me.” 

Hanzo sighs with delight, breath hitching slightly as McCree continues to push forward, the catch of those frenum piercings on his cock just as exhilarating as they always were. He waits until his lover is as deep as he can go, buried all the way to the hilt, before he quips back, “I did not want to wait. Besides,” he clenches around his lover, smile widening at Jesse’s hiss, “I have been thinking of this practically all morning.” 

Jesse starts to thrust into him, in long, slow movements, enough to get friction but not enough to provide any real satisfaction. “‘S that so, darlin’? Can’t believe I made ya wait,” he mutters against the bruised skin of his neck, as he shifts his hips in a lethargic circle, stirring Hanzo up like he knows he loves. The archer keens at the movement, pushing back against his husband with insistence. McCree takes pity on him, pace already quickening to something that’s a little more pleasurable for the two of them. 

The slap of skin on skin is audible, enticing, and entirely welcome, for both Hanzo and McCree. Accompanying the rhythmic noise is Hanzo’s soft sighs and gasps, and McCree’s grunts and groans. Jesse changes his angle to fuck into his husband’s prostate, abusing the sensitive gland with thrust after thrust, reducing the archer to a moaning mess. 

They tended not to worry about how long they lasted on their days off. There was plenty of time for them to be filthy with each other, seeing as they just ate breakfast. So, when the coil starts to tighten to an unbearable level, Hanzo doesn’t even warn McCree. He just twists his head and grabs at his husband’s hand, fingers lacing together as their mouths find each other in a heated, sloppy kiss, and he falls of the edge. The amount of laundry they do during the course of the week is ridiculous, honestly, because he comes against their sheets in stripes of white. McCree fucks him shallowly through the aftershocks, tongues tangling outside of their mouths while Hanzo starts to wind down. 

Jesse’s still hard and throbbing inside of him, so he clenches down on him and parts from his lips to mutter, “keep going, I want you to come inside,” to spur his husband on. It works, as his lover groans loudly and starts to thrust into him faster. Hanzo is much too sensitive, but he likes the way the pleasure teeters on the edge of pain, while Jesse uses his body to chase his release. Hanzo knows he’s coming when the man starts to thrust into him in shallow, deep movements, and their lips find each other again. The wet heat that fills his insides never gets old. 

When Jesse finally stops shaking from the aftershocks and manages to pull out, he flops onto his side next to Hanzo, boneless and smiling. The archer tilts his head to snag a soft, sweet kiss, feeling sated, for the time being. Who knows what would happen later. He crawls on top of his husband, snuggling against his hairy chest, and tilts his head up to watch the man watch him.  McCree’s hand falls to trace mindless patterns into Hanzo’s back, which he tries to recreate against Jesse’s chest. 

“Sorry I didn’t last too long, sugar,” McCree says, though there’s a glint in his eyes that betrays that he knows what Hanzo would say next.

“It is fine,” Hanzo retorts, shuffling forward a bit to kiss his husband noisily, “we have the whole day ahead of us for you to make up for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> goodnight it's late where i am and i have to work tomorrow LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK


End file.
